


Trolley

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:26:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25040857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: A season 11 pregnancy fic written to the shopping prompt: Person A pushes person B in the trolley cause Person B is tired.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Trolley

Her feet and ankles are swollen. Her stomach is trapped under her ribcage and she’s regretting the bite of burrito she’d stolen. Chilli burns up her gullet. She burps quietly into her closed fist. Mulder lets rip with a disgustingly long belch and an old woman tuts like the top coming off a soda bottle. Scully finds herself apologising as she picks two cans of lentils from the shelf.

“Not again, Scully. They give me gas.”

“Everything gives you gas, Mulder. And they’re rich in iron. For me.”

He slumps against the asparagus spears and stares a jar of jalapenos longingly. “For the vitamins?” 

She doesn’t answer, pushes the trolley around the next aisle. She can barely steer without it sending jolts of pain down the back of her thighs. She selects plain crackers and ginger cookies. Mulder slings a packet of Poptarts in and she removes them as he groans like a small boy. A band tightens around her abdomen and she holds her breath, fingers turning in small circles on the crest of her stomach. Mulder is already at the end of the aisle and she can’t find a voice to call him back. The feeling subsides and she pushes on.

He’s got eggs, milk, cheese, yoghurt, butter and a wide grin on his face. He thinks he’s struck gold. “All the healthy basics.”

Shaking her head, she can’t help but smile back. “Fine. You can make omelettes for dinner.”

“Then we’ll need mushrooms and spinach. Are you okay, Scully?”

She looks down. The inside of her pants legs are darkening. “Um.”

Before she can protest, he scoops her up and plonks her inside the trolley. Her hand squashes into the carton of eggs, the heel of her boot pierces the packet of oats and they scatter over the leather of her other boot. Pain squeezes her stomach and she hugs her knees with slimy hands as produce whizzes by and Mulder’s anxious yelling fills the air.

“My wife’s water broke. Her water just broke. Scully? Scully!”

At the registers, a cashier is already on the phone calling an ambulance. Scully wants to laugh and say ‘oh no, I’m fine’ but it comes out as an ugly cry caught on the crest of a contraction and she can’t get the words ‘I’m a doctor’ out. Mulder is turning in ever decreasing circles like a border collie chasing its tail. The tutting woman parks her own trolley next to theirs and bends inside it, pulling out a packet of chewing gum. She breaks the bars into separates, handing one to her and one to Mulder.

“Chew hard when the pain peaks,” the woman says to her, squeezing Scully’s hand.

And to Mulder, she simply says, “chew.”

As she moves her trolley towards the next lane, the woman bends and whispers into Scully’s ear. “Good luck. You’re strong, and him? He’ll be fine in a day or three.”


End file.
